


Close To You

by nicky69



Series: Close To You [1]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Pre-Slash, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicky69/pseuds/nicky69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little glimpse into the mind of Nigel Crane during Stalker. Author's Notes: Betaed by the lovely elmyraemilie. Any mistakes you find are my own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close To You

** Close to You **

 

“I see you Nick, do you feel me? Can you feel me?”

 

I remember the first day that we met, like it was the first day of my life. Everything before that was without meaning, merely an exercise in survival; I didn’t begin to live until I met you.

 

Nothing about that day, or that job seemed out of the ordinary. There was no blinding light from on high, signaling the importance of the moments ahead, but when I first laid eyes on you, I knew that my world would never be the same.

 

We talked like, forever, that day. I felt like I knew you my entire life. The minute I met you I knew we connected. Because you told me what you did and I knew exactly what you were talking about. I do it too, you know; I observe people, I notice everything about them and I watch them, all the time.

 

Like I watch you now.

 

We made friends that day, Nick.  You noticed me and when you clapped me on the back as I left and said, “Later, man,” I knew what you were really saying.

 

You had already told me with your glances and your touches. You had told me that you loved me, even if you had not said the words.

 

Here now in the darkness of your attic I observe you as you sleep. You are so vulnerable; all mine to do with as I please.

 

I watch you, you know. I look out for you; because that’s what friends do, isn’t it? In the grocery store I see you chat to the vapid blonde girl on the checkout; she’s flirting with you but you don’t seem to notice. I’m so close I could reach out and touch you, but you don’t see me. I see you with Warrick at the diner eating breakfast after shift. You always order the same thing: eggs, hash browns, toast and OJ. No coffee for you, not if you want to sleep when you get home.

 

“I see you, Nick.”

 

I look down on the world, on your world.

 

I see you as you talk on the phone to your parents back home in Texas. I know that they worry about their "baby" out here in Sin City; but you’re a man, Nick, strong in your own right and I respect that strength, that independence.

 

I like to watch the way that you pad about in your bare feet as you clean the house; you’re neat but not obsessive. I like to watch as you find yourself engrossed by a documentary about birds or as you take in a game on TV.  I see you in your most private moments, Nick. I watch while you sing off key to your favorite country station as you tackle the laundry and I watch enraptured at the look of bliss on your face as you take yourself in hand and give yourself over to pleasure.

 

You have such a beautiful body Nick, so toned, so perfect. I love to watch you shower. The way that the water glistens on your tanned skin and in your hair is incredibly erotic. I get hard as I watch you and as I reach to touch myself, I imagine that it is your hand that strokes me to completion.

 

You are so at ease with your surroundings, so comfortable in your own skin. I envy that. You are everything that I long to be Nick. We are so alike and yet so very far apart. But I wonder Nick, for all your outward smiles and good humor; do you feel the same loneliness inside that I feel?

 

I think that you do.

 

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of something in your eyes, a pain buried so deep that it eats away at the core of you. In your most unguarded moments I see to your very heart. Alone in your home there is no need for false bravado and the hurt that I see reflected in your expression reminds me of my own.

 

“I feel you near me, Nick. Can you feel me?”

 

 Sometimes, I think I know you so well, it’s hard to tell where I end and you begin. Nobody will ever get me the way that you do, and we all get what we deserve. We made friends that day, but you don’t see me now. I’m right here under your nose and you don’t see me.

 

Manners, Nick. Manners! Is it so much to ask that you notice me again, that you tell me again how much I mean to you? You are so self-involved, so blind to your own true feelings that you can’t see mine. You hurt me, Nick, every day. Every time that you glance my way and don’t acknowledge me, you hurt me.

 

Ensconced in your own petty little life and your job, you hide from the world. But I see you Nick. I’m going to make you see me too. Jane Galloway will be my gift to you. Then you’ll see how much you mean to me. You’ll see.

 

Soon, Nick.

 

Soon.


End file.
